


Taken By Surprise

by serenitymeimei



Category: Swingtown
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitymeimei/pseuds/serenitymeimei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post series. It's one of the most freeing experiences that she's ever had and she finds it funny that it's not the first she's had within the four corners of their bed, and it probably won't be the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fic for almost three years off and on, and I finally decided to finish it for The International Day of Femslash 2012. Happy reading everyone!

It's a Tuesday the first time it happens.

Susan isn't quite sure how she ends up on the Deckers’ front porch, her eyes puffy and red after a particularly nasty fight with Bruce, but she finds that it's a little easier to breath when Trina finally opens the front door and takes her into her arms. It isn't the first time that they've hugged, nor the second or third, not by a long shot. However, it _is_ the first time that their embrace has grounded Susan in such a way, like a port in the storm of her crazy life. She spends the rest of the night clinging to that, clinging to _her_.

Trina doesn't let go.

* * *

The second time it happens it's snowing outside and the smell of it overwhelms her when she greets Trina at the door. Crisp, cold, and clean.

Thanksgiving is only a few days away and somehow the homeless shelter two streets over has roped her into baking desserts for their annual turkey dinner. So, after turning the radio on low, Susan spends most of the afternoon teaching her friend how to mix things and what proportions are best for what pies, despite what the recipes might say. They joke and tease one another, and she purposely turns a blind eye to the steady stream of apple slices that mysteriously keep disappearing when her back is turned. It's always been give and take, their friendship, lenient but strong, and it's happy, carefree moments like this that reminds her of that. 

It's only when they finally get the fruits of their labor into the oven, and the sun has already set well below the horizon, that something shifts between them. She's not really sure what it is exactly, but just as she realizes that they're covered in more ingredients than they actually put into the food, she feels it. 

Susan's laughter fills the room and soon Trina joins her. There's flour everywhere- all over the front of their sweaters, in their hair, and she's pretty sure that there's a tiny bit of dough is smeared across her neighbor's cheek. The place is an absolute mess.

Clearing her throat, Susan gestures vaguely to the right side of her face, “You uh, you've got a little...” 

Trina's eyes dance playfully, shuffling closer to her as she unsuccessfully tries to wipe it off, “Did I get it?” 

Susan suspects that she missed on purpose, but finds herself amused anyway. She shakes her head and grins nervously, lopsided and sweet, much like she remembers doing so many times on the fourth of July. After only a moments hesitation, she reaches up and tentatively cups the side of her face. Trina sways forward, blinking heavily as Susan works on gently brushing the dried pie crust from the woman's jaw. Her skin is soft and warm and she knows, even as she's doing it, that she lingers a little longer than she really should.

Then their eyes meet. 

Her chest tightens and the air around them heats noticeably. Flustered, she pulls her fingers away, choosing instead to toy with the ends of dark brown hair, unable to break the connection completely. She becomes nervous when Trina's head tilts to the side, her brow furrowed as she watches her with curiosity, like a light bulb went off she's suddenly discovered a secret worth studying. Susan wants to say something, anything to break this new tension between them, to somehow explain, but every time she tries her voice gets caught in her throat.

“Mom?”

Startled, Susan's heart nearly leaps out of her chest and she's just barely able to put a respectable amount of distance between them before BJ walks through the door.

“Oh, hey Mrs. Decker.”

“BJ,” she nods politely, “how's that girlfriend of yours doing?”

When her son blushes, she's almost certain that she does as well.

“Samantha's good- _really_ good actually. She's coming for a visit after the holiday.”

Trina smiles warmly, “Really? That's wonderful!”

BJ ducks his head shyly and nostalgia warms inside her chest. How had her son managed to grow up so quickly?

“Yeah, well. It's only for a day.”

“A day is better than nothing at all though, right?”

He grins, but she can tell that it doesn't really reach his eyes. It's sad and hopeful at the same time.

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“Oh, I'm always right,” Trina chuckles, tossing him one of the leftover apples, “Now go on upstairs and entertain yourself for an hour. Your mother doesn't realize it yet, but she's going to show me how to make spaghetti.”

Susan smirks, knowing full well that the woman could burn water if she left her alone for too long and isn't surprised when BJ's eyes flick unsure back and forth between herself and Trina, most likely thinking the same thing.

“Good luck,” he took a hearty bite of the apple and escaped toward the stairs, stopping before he was completely out of sight, “Just- try not to burn the place down, okay?”

Biting her lip, Susan tries not to laugh.

Trina turns her head, raising a delicate brow in her direction, “He gets his sense of humor from his mother. How charming.”

Shrugging innocently, she starts cleaning off the counters, “Are you sure you don't want to just, I don't know... watch, maybe?”

Susan doesn't see the dish towel coming.

* * *

The third time it happens, it's a quiet Saturday morning and _The Scooby-Doo Show_ is playing on the television when Trina takes her by the hand and leads her into the house.

They don't speak, they never do, not on days like this. Tom is on his way home from Japan, BJ is spending the weekend over at Rick's, and it's become some sort of silent agreement between them to seek each other out when the loneliness becomes too much to handle. It didn't start out that way at first, no, they were just two friends spending time together when things got quiet. But, ever since that one beautiful night with Roger, one heartbreakingly sweet evening, her ability to cope and self-soothe has greatly diminished. She'd woken up the next morning naked and alone, only to find that he'd slipped out in the middle of the night and gone to Cincinnati anyway, guilt getting the better of him. It's been a long and weary process since that night- separation, a quick divorce, mediation that resulted in a shared custody agreement- and if it weren't for Trina she's certain that she'd have gone insane by now.

So, even though it's out of the ordinary, Susan lets herself be tugged down onto the couch and guided so that her head lays on the younger woman's lap. She accepts the solace for what it is, nothing more, nothing less. Fingers run through her hair, soothing away the tears that slide silently down her temple, and for the first time in months she decides to break the unspoken rules. 

“The bank is foreclosing on the house next month,” she confesses with a whisper. 

Those magic fingers stop in their tracks, a heavy silence settling between them. In that moment she doesn't realize it, but ten, twenty, hell even thirty years down the road she'll always associate what Trina says next with chocolate, strawberry and vanilla flavored ghouls flashing across the screen as the _Scooby Gang_ raced to save the day.

“We'll figure something out,” she promises, skilled digits once again resuming their massage on her scalp, “We always do.”

Susan nods and chokes out a relieved sob, gripping the inside of Trina's knee like a life raft until her body stops shaking and finally calms. She's not alone.

 

That's how Tom finds them a few hours later, mindlessly watching the television, still laying in the same position. If he's surprised to find her sprawled across the couch with his wife, he doesn't show it. 

“Hey there, beautiful,” he calls out, setting his things down as he walks in and kisses his wife in greeting.

“Have a good flight?” she asks quietly.

His hand drops to caress his wife's growing baby bump and they share a secret smile only a foot above her head. Susan feels like she's intruding. 

“It was long,” he sighs, “I missed you.”

Trina hums happily, kissing him again, “I missed you, too.”

Their exchange is intimate, awkwardly so for her, and Susan tries to slip out of the way to give them some space. But, before she can even lift her head from its position in Trina's lap, she feels a small hand slide around her waist and press her back down. Confused, she relaxes and obeys the silent command, breath catching in the back of her throat when that persistent palm glides higher against her ribs, resting just below her chest. Then she realizes why Trina stopped her, because Tom is focused solely on her now. His warm eyes meet hers and the back of his fingers caress her cheek as he leans down and presses his lips to her forehead. It's oddly comforting and she blushes at the attention.

“Susan,” he smiles, his thumb and bent forefinger nudging her chin affectionately, “It's always a pleasure to see you.”

She's not sure what to say to that, both of them are constantly surprising her. Thankfully, he pulls away before she can react.

“Well, I'm beat. I think I'm gonna go lay down for a few hours, rest my eyes,” he flashes them his trademark cocky smile and gestures toward the bedroom, “Can I interest either of you lovely ladies in joining me?”

Susan can't help herself, she giggles and turns to look up at Trina, who meets her gaze steadily. 

“Maybe later, sweetheart,” she says, her thumb absentmindedly brushing the underside of Susan's breast, “I think we're good right where we are.”

She shivers and arches slightly into the touch before she realizes what she's doing. Six months ago, Susan would have never thought she'd be there- laying willingly in a woman's arms with said woman's husband in the next room, single and about to lose her new home. Everything has changed so much, but this, right here? Trina has somehow managed to stay the same, she's always there no matter what, and if she's honest with herself it scares her a little how close they've gotten- how right it feels. But if there's anything that the Deckers have taught her, it's to keep an open mind. 

So, Susan takes a deep breath and covers Trina's hand with her own, twining their fingers together.

“Are you sure you don't want me to go?” she asks her friend, “Tom just got back, I don't want to intrude-”

“Don't you dare think about moving,” Trina whispers, tightening her grip reassuringly, “Got it?”

Susan nods, a shy smile stretching across her lips, “Got it.”

* * *

By the fourth time it happens, it's become so familiar that she decides to stop keeping track and simply enjoy the new aspect of their friendship. 

It's December twenty second and Susan is still having trouble finding a job so she spends most of the day packing up the house, leaving only the essentials and holiday decorations out. By the time ten o'clock rolls around she's absolutely exhausted and decides to call it a night, gathering her things before padding into the bathroom. Lately, this has been the only relaxing part of her day- brushing her hair, washing her face and sliding into warm pajamas- but halfway through her nighttime ritual she hears someone open and close the front door downstairs. 

Her heart races. She sets her foamy toothbrush back on the sink and tiptoes around the corner, grabbing the nearest heavy object- a tennis racket. Don't ask her why it was in the bathroom, BJ was always leaving things in the weirdest places, but as she slips quietly down the stairs, heavy shadows hiding her, she's suddenly incredibly grateful that the kids are with Bruce for the week. She's absolutely terrified.

Susan holds her breath, knuckles white around the wooden rackets grip. She's managed to press herself against the wall only a few risers away from the bottom floor, frozen in place, listening as the perpetrator moved about in her living room, shuffled footsteps growing nearer. 

Her stomach rolls, bile threatening to rise against her will. This was it. This is how she's going to die, she's certain of it. Despite her fear, she raises her weapon, ready to strike just as they round the corner. Thankfully, she never excelled at sports in school and misses. That's when the person screams, scrambling backwards into a house plant in the corner of the foyer. 

Adrenaline surges through her. She'd been expecting a man, someone big and burly trying to steal her possessions or worse, force himself upon her. She'd expected anything but small form that greeted her, their voice distinctly female.

“Susan?” they ask, “What the hell was that for?”

She squints, her feet crossing the distance between them before her mind could protest, “Trina?”

There she was, a familiar quilt from the lounge wrapped around her shoulders, her dark eyes wide and vulnerable. Susan felt so guilty. She'd almost just assaulted a pregnant woman.

“Oh, God,” her voice trembles, scooping Trina up into her arms, “I'm so sorry! Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I? ”

The other woman chuckles softly and relaxes into the embrace, “I'm fine. A little embarrassed, but fine.”

Susan leans back just enough to catch her eyes, “Embarrassed? Whatever for?”

“I couldn't sleep,” she whispers, her gaze dropping to the floor for a second, “I saw a light on and didn't think you'd mind if I used your spare key.”

“Of _course_ I don't mind. You know that you're welcome here anytime,” Susan smiles, relieved.

She reaches up, cupping Trina's cheek, soothing wayward strands of hair behind her ear. The motion calms her, making her relax even further when she feels breath puff gently past her wrist, chilled skin nuzzling into her palm. 

“Are you sure you're alright?" Susan asks, her thumb idly caressing Trina's jaw.

Thin fingers tighten around her waist, “I'm sure.”

“Good,” she sighs softly, “Tom would hate me if I let anything happen to you while he was away.”

Trina reaches down and grasps her free hand, squeezing it tightly, “He could never hate you.”

That made Susan smile, just a hint at the corners of her mouth and around the edges of her eyes. Sometimes, it was hard to remember that she wasn't alone, especially in a big, lonely house, and this was a much needed reminder that somebody out there cared.

“Come on,” she tugs on Trina's hand, leading her toward the staircase, “Let's go to bed.”

The other woman follows without question.

 

The next morning, Susan wakes with her forehead pressed against the nape of Trina's neck, arms wrapped around her growing waist. The drapes had only been halfway closed the night before and the sun shines through them, illuminating the room in a deep, muted gold.

It has been months since she's woken up with someone else in her bed. Everything about it makes her heart sing and her body hum contently, the feeling of a warm body against hers, the intimacy of it all. Without thinking, her thumb caresses the swollen stomach beneath her hand, snuggling deeper into Trina's slumbering form. She was so comfortable. There were just the right number of blankets over them, weighted and soothing, forming a cocoon of warmth around them. Birds chirped their morning songs outside the bedroom window, and the sound of the heat coming on was the only other noise in the house.

Sighing softly to herself, Susan closes her eyes and drifts back to sleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

Christmas morning had been an equally blissful and saddening affair spent with her children. Things had been awkward, almost uncomfortably so, but somehow Susan had managed to salvage their time together by making french toast and bacon with the last few ingredients left in the house, a little something to remind them that not everything had to change. Sadly, their time together came to a close early that afternoon, after gifts had been opened and laughs had been had, and the day ended with her lounging on the Deckers’ couch with a wine glass in one hand and Tom's fingers grasped loosely in the other. Trina was off in the kitchen putting her newly acquired culinary skills to the test while they watched _Miracle on 34th Street_ on TV. 

The Christmas tree sparkles in the corner, a few lingering gifts wrapped with bright colored paper and bows underneath it, just as the sun begins setting over Lake Michigan. She leans into him, shivering despite the roaring fire crackling nearby and is almost relieved when he wraps his arm around her shoulder affectionately.

“You okay, Susan?”

Sighing, she tilts her face upward, a soft smile not quite reaching her eyes, “Truthfully?”

He nods.

“I have to be out of the house by the first of the month and I still don't have a job or a place to go,” looking down at her lap, she frowns when she sees a loose thread hanging from the hem of the sweater that Laurie had handed to her only a few hours before, wrapped in bright red and green paper, “I suppose I could move in with Bruce until I get on my feet, but I don't know...”

Tom brushes a few strands of red hair behind her ear, his eyes softening as he speaks, “Not exactly an ideal situation, huh?”

She huffs, “Not even close.”

“Well, today is your lucky day,” he smiles, and her eyebrows rise, “We might just have an offer that you won't be able to refuse.”

 

Forty minutes pass by slowly, all of them spent wondering what Tom is referring to, before she finds herself sitting at the dinner table with a surprisingly delicious dinner spread out before them. The ham is a little overcooked, but everything else is otherwise perfect. She almost dared to say that Trina might one day learn her way around a kitchen after all.

“So, what exactly is this offer you were talking about, Tom?”

He swallows thickly and catches Trina's gaze. It's her who speaks up first.

“Well,” she starts, “it's not an offer really, it's more of a proposal. We know that you haven't been able to find work yet and don't have money to pay rent... So, what would you say if we offered you the guest bedroom in exchange for being our part time nanny?”

Susan's eyes widen, “Oh, Trina, I don't know. I wouldn't want to impose.”

“Please, you'd be doing us a favor. Neither of us has a clue what to do with a baby. Think of it more as a business arrangement- you teach us the ropes on taking care of little no-name here,” she chuckles, resting a protective hand on her belly, “and in return you are more than welcome to live here until you've saved up enough for a place of your own.”

Her jaw drops open slightly, speechless and overwhelmed by their offer. When she'd woken up that morning, surrounded by nothing but cardboard boxes and a silence, she would have never imagined such an opportunity coming her way. Being friends with the Deckers, spending time with them, was a blessing. She adored and cared for them far more than a normal friend should, especially after they'd helped her through one of the hardest times in her life, and for that she was forever grateful. But, could she really live with them? Could she stay in their expensive house, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner along side their growing family and not feel like she'd forced them into it?

Susan glanced down at her plate, a tab of butter slowly melting in a mound of delicious looking mashed potatoes, and found herself warming to the idea. She tried imagining a life with them- warm spring days spent with Trina and the baby, breezy nights in late August with Tom in the pool after he got home from a long flight- and came to the realization that it wouldn't be much different than the friendship that the three of them already shared. Yes, she would feel slightly guilty about it for a while, she was a grown woman and should be able to take care of herself, but the pros would far outweigh the cons in the long run.

Looking back up, she met Tom and Trina's awaiting gazes with a tentative smile, “Are you sure I wouldn't be in the way?”

Trina beams at her, “Is that a yes?”

Susan nods, shyly biting her bottom lip. It was a rash decision, she knew it was, but she didn't care. Everything was going to change again, she could feel it in her bones just as surely as she'd felt it last summer. But this time, as Tom grinned and reached across the table to squeeze her hand, she knew that she was making the right decision.


	2. Chapter 2

“Tell me again why we asked you to move in?”

Susan chuckles, carrying an armful of blankets as she skirts her way around a stack of boxes in the hallway, “I honestly didn't realize how much stuff I'd accumulated over the years. You think I'd have learned the last time we moved.”

“At least most of it is down in the basement,” Trina grins, following not far behind, “And, if we keep unpacking at this rate, you should be settled in no time.”

Dumping her load onto the bed in her new room, Susan turns and takes the small stack of pillows that the younger woman had been carrying, adding them to the growing pile, “I know I've said it before, but I really can't thank you and Tom enough for opening up your home like this. I don't know where I would have ended up if you hadn't come to my rescue... again.”

She feels a small hand touch her back, gentle and sure, “You didn't need rescuing, Susan.”

“It sure felt that way.”

Slowly, Trina's hand slides from the small of her back, over to her hip and then around front, joining the other one low over her stomach, hugging her from behind, “You just needed someone who cared enough to give you a chance, that's all.”

Susan's eyes slid shut, her long fingers threading through Trina's as she savors the embrace, “I just don't want to seem ungrateful. I know how much things are going to change for the two of you with a third person in the house, especially when that third person has custody of her teenage son every other weekend. It won't be easy.”

Trina's chin settles on her shoulder, a warm puff of air fluttering her hair just enough to make her shiver, “You seem to have forgotten that _we_ invited _you_. We knew what we were getting ourselves into,” she nuzzles closer, “but if you ever see a sock hanging from a doorknob, don't come in.”

“Alright,” Susan snorts, “I think I can manage that.”

“As long as we're open and honest with each other....”

“Hm, that sounds vaguely familiar,” she smirks, “Where have I heard that before?”

Trina's arms tighten around her and she swears that she can almost hear her smile.

* * *

By the third week in January, Susan finally manages to find a cashier job at a grocery store ten minutes down the road. It doesn't pay much, but the hours are good and she's able to make it home just before dinner most evenings, so she's happy. 

It had been a long day, the temperature had dropped below zero over the duration of her shift and she was relieved when she finally stepped through the front door, a luxurious wave of heat hitting her as she slid off her winter boots. 

“Susan! Is that you?”

“Yes, the buses were running late,” she answers, “I thought you'd already have left by the time I got back.”

Tom rounds the corner, dressed in his Captain's uniform ready to head off to the airport, and pecks her chastely on the lips in greeting. She blushes, surprised at the ease in which he showed her affection, how intimate it was. They hadn't kissed since the last time she and Bruce had swung with them, not like that anyways, a friendly smooch on the cheek or forehead most definitely didn't count.

“Me too, but Trina's been a slave driver all afternoon and now I'm running late.”

“He's lying!” she hears the now nearly six month pregnant woman in question yell from the living room, “He slept in and he just doesn't want to admit it.”

“Damn alarm clock,” he whispers good-naturedly, “It stopped working again.”

Susan chuckles, her embarrassment quickly forgotten, “I'll pick up a new one for you the next time I'm out.”

“Thanks, Susan.”

“No problem. Just remember to bundle up, it's absolutely freezing out there.”

He smirks and slides into a puffy, black down jacket before grabbing his keys and briefcase off of the table in the entryway, “I'll be fine. It's you and Treen that I'm worried about.”

She unravels the beloved, dark red scarf that she had wrapped around her neck, the one that Janet had knitted for her right after BJ was born, and loops it around his, “Nonsense. I'll look after her, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he says, cupping her cheek tenderly before opening the door, “I'll be back on Sunday.”

“We'll be waiting.”

She stands at the window and watches his car back down the driveway and onto the street, sad to see him go. Only when the red lights disappear into the night does she manage to turn away, sighing softly as she walks toward the living room to greet her friend.

“So, what do we want for dinner tonight?”

Trina looks up at her with a radiant grin, “How about pancakes?”

* * *

“Are you sure we're doing it right?”

Susan smirks and rolls her eyes, continuing to paint the wall in the small nursery between their bedrooms. It was Saturday afternoon and they'd finally settled on a pale yellow paint after spending nearly two hours in the hardware store. It would be cheery enough to brighten up the room, but not so vibrant that they'd go blind if the sun shone in through the window during the spring or summer.

“Yes, I'm sure. Bruce and I painted almost all of the rooms in our old house. I'm practically an expert.”

Trina huffs softly and strokes the brush up and down against the wall, just as she'd taught her, “I still don't know how you talked me into this.”

“It's called nesting, Trina,” she chuckles, “Every mother goes through it- decorating the nursery, clearing up clutter around the house. I'm just giving you a gentle nudge in the right direction.”

“Decorating, I understand. Sheets, pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, maybe even a crib. But, painting? Don't you remember? I hire people to do this kind of stuff.”

Susan grins and bumps their hips together, “Oh, come on. You're not having even a little bit of fun?”

The portable radio that Susan found in the hall closet buzzes softly in the background and the heat has been turned up a little higher than normal to give the paint a chance to dry properly, leaving them comfortable enough to dress in short sleeve shirts and two pairs of Tom's old sweatpants as they worked. They'd spent the first half hour setting things up, coming up with outrageous baby names to add to the growing list that Tom keeps on the kitchen counter, mostly just to see his reaction, and had later danced around the room to the music when their arms got tired.

Trina tries to stifle a smirk, but fails miserably, “Okay, maybe a little.”

Triumphant, she giggles and wraps an arm around Trina's shoulders, squeezing her affectionately as they stood facing the half-painted wall. They only had one more section of the room to do and they'd be done.

“See? I told you it wouldn't be that bad.”

Trina sighs and leans into her, “Do you think we'll have to do a second coat?”

“Probably. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” she says casually, “I just feel a horrible case of morning sickness coming on, that's all.”

Susan scoffs at her, “Trina! You haven't gotten sick in nearly a month.”

“I'm pregnant, you can't make me!” she chuckles, ducking out of her embrace before flicking paint at her with her paintbrush.

Her mouth drops open, shocked as she feels the light spray fall across her cheek. That meant war.

With a somewhat maniacal glint in her eyes, Susan dips her brush into the paint and darts after Trina, allowing the carefree joy to wash over her as they shriek playfully and end up painting everything but the walls.

 

They spend the rest of their evening scrubbing paint out of each other's hair over the kitchen sink and eat canned soup on the couch while they watch the late night news. The next morning, without complaint, Trina helps her paint the second coat before Tom arrives home.

* * *

Susan's first big paycheck in February is spent buying a used day bed to put in the small office that nobody ever uses so that BJ will finally have a place to sleep other than the couch whenever he stays over. It needs a coat of paint and some new sheets and pillows, but it's a start.

Once everything is set up, Trina talks her into going to the strip mall fifteen minutes away to help her pick out a few things to make BJ's new room feel a little more like home and Susan reluctantly agrees. But it's worth it when she sees her friend waddling toward her a half hour into their shopping spree, three large bags of clothes, blankets and other knick knacks for the nursery in tow. If Tom saw her carrying all of that, he'd likely have a small heart attack. 

“Trina, what's all this?” she chides, though genuinely curious, and takes two of them from her, “I turned around to ask your opinion on something and you were gone. I take it you found the baby section?”

Trina frowns playfully at her, her bulging middle just barely covered by her jacket, “No need to gloat, Susan. It's not very lady like.”

“ _Lady like_?” she nearly laughs, “The next thing I know you're going to start dressing like Janet-”

Susan stops short, their friendly teasing suddenly turning into an uncomfortable silence. They hadn't talked much about Janet since everyone found out that Roger was partially to blame for she and Bruce breaking up. Her old best friend hadn't taken it very well, refusing to have anything to do with her or any of her friends and family. The only reason that Janet still put up with BJ is because he was Rick's best friend. Other than that though, they hadn't heard a thing from her since just after Labor Day, and any attempts that she made to apologize were met with a cold shoulder and deaf ears. 

Blinking heavily, her heart sank in her chest. How could she have been so stupid?

“Come on,” Trina prods gently, her free hand squeezing Susan's forearm, “Let's go home.”

Susan nods, pushing onward toward the registers and then out into the balmy winter evening.

* * *

Trina is seven and a half months pregnant before Susan gets to go to the hospital with her for one of her checkups. Tom is at a meeting with corporate, hopefully getting approval to transfer to the Chicago/Seattle run at the end of the month, and Trina is just a bit too large to sit behind the steering wheel of their car. After a bit of arguing, and Tom's insistence, Susan gladly asks for the afternoon off and drives her to the appointment herself.

She was excited- more nervous than she probably should be- but this is the first time that she'll hear an unborn child's heartbeat since she was pregnant with her son. It makes her feel like a first time parent all over again, jittery and worried, even though she really has no right to such a claim. 

After nearly twenty minutes of fidgeting in the waiting room, surrounded by women in different stages of pregnancy, Trina stills her tapping foot with a stead palm on her knee. 

“Relax, Susan,” she reassures her, squeezing her softly, “Everything's going to be fine.”

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she shoots Trina an apologetic grin, “I'm sorry. It's been such a long time since I've been here. It's a little more nerve wracking than I remember.”

Trina chuckles, “It's alright. Tom can't sit still either whenever he comes with me. It's only natural.”

“I guess you're right,” she agrees grudgingly, “but this isn't my child. I should be the one consoling you.”

A set of smaller fingers find hers, and she visibly relaxes, Trina's thumb rubbing reassuring circles into her palm, “Susan, you're a part of this family, too. Never forget that.”

She felt her eyes begin to tear up, a tightness forming in the back of her throat, but before she could say how grateful she is Trina's name is called. Susan sniffles softly, a smile on her face as she reaches out and grabs the other woman's hand, helping her up from her chair. As they walk into the examination room and meets the doctor for the first time, Susan's grip never once wavers. She's not letting go of Trina any time soon.


	3. Chapter 3

As time went on, days turning into weeks and weeks turning into a month, Susan began feeling more and more like herself. She was happy, content even, two phenomena that she hadn't experienced together for a very long time, at least not in the truest sense of the words.

“Susan?”

She startles, lashes blinking open quickly just a few moments before sleep was about to claim her, “Trina? Are you alright?”

It was early April, the middle of the pregnant woman's eight month, so she and Tom had been on high alert, walking on eggshells until the baby arrived. Neither of them wanted to upset her, especially once the worst of the swelling in her hands and feet had settled in less than a week ago.

Even in the dim light, Susan sees Trina frown, “The baby's fine. I just- did I do something to upset you?”

“What? Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You've been avoiding me,” she sighs, her voice on the verge of breaking, “and so has Tom. I know I've been a little hard to be around lately...”

“No!” Susan immediately protests as she rolls out of bed, “Well, yes, but it's not what you think. We just didn't want to upset you or do anything to make the baby come early. I guess we weren't as subtle as I thought.”

Trina slumps into her arms, a quivering sob escapes her throat, “Thank God! I was so terrified I'd done something to upset both of you.”

“Oh, Trina,” Susan ran a hand through the woman's darker hair, the other rubbing up and down her back soothingly, “I'm so sorry.”

They stood like that for a few minutes, until Trina's tears began to slow and her hormones came back into check. The house was quiet around them, almost too quiet, and despite the recent spring heatwave that had enveloped the city a lingering chill had settled in just after the sun set, reminding them that it wasn't quite summer yet.

Susan feels goosebumps rise across her skin and her fingertips automatically tightened their grip in the back of Trina's fluffy robe, “Come on, it's cold.”

Trina didn't argue, simply letting Susan guide her into the warm bed and slip in beside her. Carefully, she tucks the blankets around them and sighs softly when the younger woman rests her head in the crook of her neck.

“Are you going to be alright?”

Trina huffs against her collarbone, “You're so good for putting up with me.”

A rush of emotion tickles somewhere deep in side of Susan and she reaches down, nudging Trina's chin up so that their eyes could meet, “Always.”

A moment of meaningful silence passes between them, one where the only thing that broke their gaze was the tiny moment that she gives into temptation and glances down to Trina's lips. She would be lying if she said she hadn't seen it coming, hadn't felt their friendship turn into something slightly more, something arguably better than what they'd had before. But, now that the time was here, the time for her to make a move and let nature run its course, to give in, Susan suddenly finds herself completely terrified. 

Her heart flutters rapidly in her chest, too scared to take that leap, to do anything. Trina, on the other hand, was watching her with a warm smile, cool and calm as she looks up at her from beneath wet lashes and puffy, red eyes. It gives her the confidence, the bravery, to run her fingertips across Trina's cheeks and soothe away any dampness that remains, mirroring Trina's smile with a nervous one of her own. Unsurprisingly, Susan's hand shakes as she cups the side of her face and the only thing left to do is take a deep breath and slowly bridge the gap between them, unable to resist that pull any longer.

What she feels as their mouths finally brush together is nothing at all like the kiss that she'd expected, it's better. In her dreams, on the rare occasion that they actually occurred, their exchanges are hungry and desperate, almost bordering on the side of rough, like they can't get enough of each other. In reality, Trina's lips are soft and tender under hers and when she doesn't push her away, not that Susan ever really thought she would to begin with, she's so grateful that she almost misses hearing the little moan that escapes from the back of Trina's throat at the exact moment that she dares to nibble at her bottom lip. 

Susan's body warms slowly, like a cat sunning itself on a windowsill on a lazy weekend afternoon, and it isn't long before she feels Trina's hand slide up between her breasts and over her chest, fingers tickling affectionately along the side of her neck. It's a gesture not meant to tease, she knows that instinctively somehow, it's an offer of comfort and understanding, and the exchange leaves her feeling languid and content. 

Smiling softly, Susan slowly tapers off the kiss and allows herself tug Trina closer, relaxing back into the bed. Their foreheads are just barely touching, resting side by side on a shared pillow, and Susan fidgets with a strand of Trina's hair before tucking it behind her ear and settling in for the rest of the night.

They'd talk in the morning.

* * *

And, talk they did.

It was slightly awkward, but Susan is amazed that she somehow manages to come out of it unscathed. They have an understanding between them now, one that they sealed with another kiss, not unlike the one that they shared the night before- full of passion, but subdued, neither feeling the need to push it any further.

The conversation that she has with Tom later that night is the one that really matters, though. Trina has gone off to bed early, exhausted after a long day, and the two of them are sprawled out on the couch together watching the _Six Million Dollar Man_ when she decides to broach the topic. Trina had reassured her that morning that she and her husband had talked about it before, the possibility of feelings forming between the three of them, of including her in their marriage when or if the time ever came around, but the idea of even broaching the topic had left Susan's nerves on edge. Yes, she cares for them both, maybe even loves them, but she still wasn't sure if Tom would be as receptive to the idea without Trina there to moderate things between them.

“Tom, can I talk to you about something?”

He turns away from the television, running a hand through her hair with a soft grin and a curious look, “Of course. What's on your mind?”

Susan leans up from where she'd been laying against his chest and rests her head in her hand, “I- kissed Trina last night.”

His forehead creases for a moment, like he'd been expecting her to bring up the weather or sports, anything but this, but at the same time he doesn't seem all that surprised, “I know.”

“Trina told you on the phone earlier, didn't she?” she blushes, picking invisible lint from his threadbare t-shirt.

He nods, but remains quiet.

“The last thing that I want to do is come between the two of you,” she says firmly, trying her hardest to reassure him, “You're both such amazing friends and you've done so much for me. I'd never want to jeopardize our friendship in that way, I couldn't.”

Tom huffs a silent chuckle and finally takes pity on her, her eyes widening when he tugs her down and kisses her softly. It was unexpected but warm and familiar, making her lean into the contact and deepen their kiss before she realizes what she's doing.

“You have nothing to worry about, Susan,” he says as he breaks the kiss, and she just barely curbs the urge to lean back in, “Though I definitely appreciate your honesty, that took some guts.”

Susan finds herself blushing again, “Well, you have an awfully odd way of responding after I admitted to kissing your wife.”

He laughs, leaning up to catch her mouth with his, his mustache tickling her upper lip, “Touche. But then again, we've always been an odd couple.”

There's a twinkle in his eye and it makes her sigh in relief. It's the same look that she's seen on him so many times before; the first time they kissed, then in the cabin right before Janet and Roger had shown up, and again that night at the disco when they came home with them to cool down in their pool. It's a mixture of mischief and adoration, but this time there's something more, something new.

“You're really not mad?”

“No,” he whispers, “I'm not mad.”

“Then what are you?” she asks before she can think not to.

“I'm...” he ponders it for a moment, “happy.”

“Happy?”

“I'm happy for _you_ , Susan. And, for us, if being with both of us is something that you might be interested in?”

Susan shifts against him, snuggling in closer even as her pulse skips a beat. She's not sure if she's nervous or simply excited at the thought. She hadn't allowed herself to even contemplate the possibility of the three of the being together, not until she'd gotten the chance to talk to him. She's said it once and she'd say it again, she wasn't going to chance screwing up their friendship.

“You mean like swinging?” she asks.

“Sort of,” he explains, expanding on what she and Trina had talked about earlier that morning, “You're already living here, so whatever... _interaction_ , platonic or otherwise, that we might have would be up to you. Whatever you were comfortable with.”

She takes a shallow breath, trying to wrap her brain around it, “So you're saying...”

“That you could be our equal, in every way. If that's what you wanted.”

Oh, she definitely wanted it, a little too much if you asked her. Susan had gotten used to enjoying the closeness between the three of them. She loved sharing the morning paper over breakfast, giving and receiving hugs from both of them every day, and the general lack of personal space that you only get when you truly know and trust someone. But she still craved more, and the fact that they were actually offering that to her seems to have temporarily thrown her for a loop.

“Take some time to think about it,” he offers, wrapping his arm back around her until she settles down against him once again, “you don't have to answer right away.”

She nods and lets her eyes slide shut, breathing him in as he went back to watching the end of the program.

* * *

It turns out that _'thinking about it'_ actually means allowing herself to be corralled into Tom and Trina's bed three days later after the pregnant woman whines about being uncomfortable. Apparently the remedy is having not one, but two warm bodies to wrap herself around as she falls asleep. Susan doesn't mind though, far from it actually. She hadn't slept this well in ages.

Everything goes swimmingly, there was no awkwardness or long talks about what they were doing, until nearly a week and a half into their nightly routine when Susan wakes out of a deep sleep and doesn't understand why. Then she feels Trina tense next to her, a small moan slipping from her lips.

“Are you alright?” she whispers, careful not to wake Tom.

The woman shifts again, rolling toward her until her belly is pressed into Susan's side, “I think I just had a contraction.”

For a moment Susan forgets to breath. Then, without thinking, she slides her hand over Trina's stomach. She can feel the baby wiggling around, a tiny hand pressing into hers, and she smiles. It makes her breath again. This is natural, bound to happen at any time in the next two weeks, there's nothing to worry about. She just hadn't expected it to happen in the middle of the night.

“Has it happened before, or is this the first time?”

Trina burrows into Susan's shoulder and shakes her head, “No, that was the first time. I woke up about twenty minutes ago because of my back though, it's been sore since dinner.”

“Why didn't you say anything?” she asks before she can stop herself.

“Because I didn't think it was anything to worry about, Susan” her lips brush against bare skin, making Susan shiver, “My back has hurt since December.”

“Should we wake up Tom?”

“No,” she mumbles, “let him sleep.”

“You should try and get some sleep too. If you're going into labor you've got some time before we have to head to the hospital. You'll need your strength.”

Trina doesn't protest. Instead, she reaches down and moves Susan's hand to her waist and wriggles around until she's comfortable. Once she's settled, Susan lets her fingertips rub lazily over the tense muscles, soothing her friend until she falls into a restless slumber.

 

Three hours later, Susan wakes again and this time she can feel the early morning sun struggling to shine its way through the blinds. Vaguely she hears Tom whispering quiet words to his wife and it's then that she realizes Trina has rolled over at some point during the night and her palm is now resting on the side of her stomach. She rubs her thumb against it and it takes her a moment to realize that something is off. The muscles are hard beneath her touch. 

She inhales sharply, immediately awake, “Just breathe through it, Trina.”

Leaning up as carefully as she can, Susan looks over the brunette's shoulder and smiles softly in sympathy when she sees the panic in Tom's eyes.

“You try breathing through it,” Trina gasps.

Tom presses a kiss against her forehead, running his fingers through her hair and Susan moves to rub the small of her back. She's intimately familiar with the spot and feels Trina relax the tiniest bit the moment that she finds it.

Once the contraction ends, she sits up but continues rubbing her back in comforting circles, “How often have they been happening?”

“About once every fifteen minutes,” Tom answers, “Think we should head to the hospital?”

Susan nods. 

He's and packing a bag within seconds.

 

Ten hours later, Allison Topaz Decker comes into the world with a tiny, squeaky cry and she's absolutely perfect.

Great-aunt Sally would have been proud, Susan thinks to herself as she stares down at the infant, brushing a finger over her chubby little cheek. Topaz won't be quiet so lonely anymore.

* * *

“I just don't understand why you're still living there, Mom.”

It's the beginning of June, her sixth month at the Deckers’, and she's balancing little Ally in one arm while she cuts up a pancake with the other. Both Tom and Trina are off at a fundraiser for the day and she has a standing breakfast date with Laurie every Saturday, so she hadn't hesitated about bringing the baby along.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

She knows what her daughter is referring to, the fact that she's still living with the Deckers and honestly, she hadn't really thought about it. Everything seemed so natural now, the three of them living together and taking care of the girl in her arms. It was kind of perfect.

“It's weird. I mean, don't _you_ think it's weird? Living there. With a married couple,” then she points to Ally, “And, you even brought along their kid to our breakfast? What's up with that?”

Susan frowns, “Watch your manners, Laurie. She may not be old enough to understand rudeness, but I most certainly am.”

Laurie rolls her eyes and leans back in her seat. 

“And, no,” she continues, “I don't think it's weird at all. They're my friends. They took me in when I had nowhere else to go and they made me a part of their family.”

“But, don't you think they want their privacy back? I know I would if I had someone living in my house that long.”

Her frown deepens. Ally fusses in her arms and it only takes a few gentle rocks before she quiets again.

“Not that it's any of your business, Laurie, but no. I know for a fact that they don't want their privacy back,” she says pointedly, and her daughter's eyes widen slightly.

She knows how uncomfortable it's made Laurie in the past, the open, swinging, free love lifestyle that the Deckers lived. But if she was mature enough to be in an adult relationship, then she was certainly old enough to not judge her own mother's life choices.

“Mom,” she gapes, “are you and the Deckers... together? As in, _dating_ together?”

Susan can feel her cheeks heat and her eyes drop to the beautiful baby girl sleeping in her lap. She's had more than enough time to think it over, two months worth of carefully weighing her pros and cons, and she might actually be ready to step past her fears and accept that her life would always be intertwined with Tom and Trina in one way or another, no matter what.

“I don't know,” she answers honestly, looking up just in time to see the hint of a surprised grin on her daughter's face, “I think we might be.”

Laurie leaves the topic alone after that and Susan exits the diner an hour later feeling a strange sense of contentment. It settles deeply within her entire body, leaving her loose and happy, almost carefree. But it's only when Tom and Trina arrive home that evening and she greets them at the door with a kiss, butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach, that she realizes just how made up her mind really is. 

They return her affections wordlessly, with small touches and lazy smiles, and eventually tug her down between them when they crawl into bed. The touching doesn't stop there though. They're gentle and thorough, and when she's sated and finally gets the chance to return the favor she doesn't hold back. It's one of the most freeing experiences that she's ever had and she finds it funny that it's not the first she's had within the four corners of their bed, and it probably won't be the last.

Sometime around midnight, Susan collapses against Tom's chest utterly exhausted. The sound of their voices, spinning wild tales from their swinging days, lull her into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

The last time that it happens Ally is almost six years old.

The little girl arrives home early from her fifth day of school in a tizzy about something, speaking wildly to her father as they walk together through the house and then out by the pool. Her dark blond hair is frizzy from the humidity and falling out of her pigtails, but Susan finds it absolutely adorable and motions her over.

“How was school today, sweetheart?”

Ally looks up at her with her big, brown eyes and a pout on her face, “Timmy said that you weren't my mommy today.”

Her heart just about stops beating. There's a moment where her stomach drops and her eyes dart over to Tom, who's smiling softly, and it's him who convinces her to plow on. They knew it would probably happen, not everyone is quite as accepting of their family as their friends have been, but she didn't think it would happen quite so soon.

“And, what did you do when Timmy said that?” she asks carefully.

“I told him that our family is special and that you _are_ my other mommy,” the girl frowns, her nose scrunching up just like Trina's did whenever she smells or eats something that she doesn't like, “Then he stuck out his tongue and called me a weirdo, so I punched him in the face.”

Susan's eyes widen, her jaw dropping open, “You did _what_? Allison Decker, that was not nice at all! What do we say about hitting?”

The satisfied grin that had appeared on the girl's face falls just as suddenly and her gaze shifts to the ground, “Violence is never the answer...”

“That's right,” she says, running a palm over the crown of Ally's head before ducking down and meeting the girl's eyes, “Did you get him good, though?”

Ally blushes and giggles.

“Good. That doesn't mean you're not going without dessert tonight though. You know the rules.”

She sighs, “Yes, momma.”

“Now, go get changed into your bathing suit. BJ's coming over to go swimming with you.”

“Really?” Ally's eyes light up, her afternoon and punishment all but forgotten.

“Yes, really,” she chuckles, swatting her lightly on the hip to get her moving, “Go on, quick! He'll be here any minute.”

Ally runs off into the house without another word and Tom slowly makes his way over. He's still wearing his pilot uniform and he looks tired, but she can tell that he's more amused than anything else.

He plops down onto the chaise lounge that she's sitting on and greets her with a kiss. It's slow and sweet, and a part of her dearly misses the feeling of his mustache brushing against her upper lip. She's never gotten used to his clean shaven face, despite the fact that he's kept it that way for the last two years. She missed his facial hair.

“I never thought I'd get called down to the principal's office again,” he sighs heavily, “especially during my daughter's first week of school.”

Susan smirks and runs her fingers through his hair, “Well, she is the product of you and Trina, that's for sure.”

He laughs, groaning as he rubs a palm over his face, “I'm going to be spending a lot of time down at that school, aren't I?”

She nods, confirming that yes, Ally was going to be just as much of a handful as her parents were. Maybe even more.

 

It's nearly half past five and, with the sounds of BJ and Ally splashing around in the pool, Susan is busy cooking dinner. She doesn't hear Trina arrive home, instead she feels slender arms slip around her waist from behind and her spatula goes still for a moment, her body sinking into the embrace.

A pair of soft lips flutter over her neck, “I missed you.”

Susan smiles and closes her eyes.

“I missed you too,” she whispers, squeezing Trina's clasped hands with one of her own, “Did you have a good time?”

“I never thought I would say this, but I did. Who knew that a journalist convention could be so much fun?”

Susan grins and stirs the vegetables in the skillet before they ended up burnt, “Did Janet's panel go well? I know she was nervous about it, but I kept telling her that she had nothing to worry about. If there's one thing that she's good at, it's organizing, and she had more of those little note cards than I think I've ever seen in my life.”

Releasing her, Trina snorts softly and leans her hip against the counter, stealing a sip of wine from the glass that she'd been nursing for the last half hour. Her face is slightly red like she'd been out in the sun and her long hair is pulled back into a lazy ponytail. She looks beautiful, but in a simple way, one that Susan has always secretly loved.

“She did so well, Susan. You would have been proud.”

“Oh, I am. Believe me,” she says, wanting nothing more than the best for her oldest friend, “But, you have something to be proud of too.”

Trina's brow furrows, “Oh?”

“Oh yes,” Susan starts, turning the burner off and setting the pan aside to cool, “It begins with Tom getting called down to Ally's school and ends with one of little Timmy's baby teeth being knocked out. Where do you want me to start?”

“Allison! What did you do?!”

**End.**


End file.
